


of two minds

by farores



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Eventual Relationships, F/F, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-New Dangan Ronpa V3, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Spoilers, no ships yet. soon though. soon.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farores/pseuds/farores
Summary: major v3 spoilers.one by one, they all wake up. one by one, they all have to learn to live in this new-old world that they don't remember.one remembers her old life.one represses her old life.one forgets her old life.slowly, they begin to lean on each other for support.--tenkaemaki-centric post-game au for v3.
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede & Saihara Shuichi, Akamatsu Kaede/Chabashira Tenko, Akamatsu Kaede/Chabashira Tenko/Harukawa Maki, Akamatsu Kaede/Harukawa Maki, Chabashira Tenko/Harukawa Maki
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	of two minds

the first sensation akamatsu feels is the weight of death. the choking, the clawing, the horrible sound of blood vessels popping in her ears over the cacophony of music, the way her feet desperately reached for the footholds the piano keys could offer, though relief never lasted long enough to save her. when her eyes open, her fingers -- long and made for the ivory keys -- are reaching for her throat, still trying to claw the metal collar off of her. 

there are people in the room, all dressed in white and donning faces she does not recognize. they reach for her hands and for her feet, which still kick as they search for some semblance of relief on the piano underneath her. as they yank her hands away, akamatsu notices the blood painting her nails, and she is reminded again of the way it felt to hold that shotput ball in her hands and the red gushing from amami’s head. she had killed him, after all. what kind of monster would do something like that?

someone is screaming. akamatsu thinks it might be herself.

and then, just like that, the blackness once again opens up into her vision, and she is swallowed whole.

the second time she wakes, there is no kicking or screaming or clawing. her eyelids are heavy as they pry themselves open to nothing but white light, and for a moment, she thinks she is dead. only for a moment. heaven does not welcome murderers into its pearly gates, and as the scent of chemicals fills her nose and the rhythmic beating of a heart monitor lull her out of her sleep, she realizes that she could not be so lucky. rescued moments before death, she supposes, because she was not alive to learn the truth of her world. the bandages around her neck seem to only push that answer forward.

it takes her a few moments to realize she is not alone in this hospital room. a figure sits in the corner, dark and hunched over a book. there is a meal beside him, half-eaten. the pianist opens her mouth to say something to him, but all that comes out is something like a grunt. the figure’s head snaps up to look at her. she recognizes him.

“akamatsu-san?!” saihara’s voice is just like it was before she was pulled away by that chain. his eyes are wide as he pushes himself up to his feet, and akamatsu realizes that he is no longer wearing his school uniform, but rather a light blue gown of sorts. there is something about him that feels different. akamatsu isn’t sure whether it’s the lack of his hat, or if he just looks… older, now. more mature. more reliable. she doesn’t know.

she wishes she didn’t have to look at him.

akamatsu doesn’t say anything, so saihara presses forward, nearly tripping over himself to reach her bedside. up close, she can see the exhaustion that hangs over his eyelids. the back of her mind wonders how long she’s been asleep. has he been here by her side the whole time? the thought makes her feel sick.

“h… how do you feel?” is what saihara says next, and she isn’t entirely sure how she’s supposed to answer. he doesn’t give her much time to answer anyway. “do you… do you remember?”

“remember…?” akamatsu echoes. it’s such a silly thing. of course she remembers. she remembers the sound of the shotput as she let it go down the vent, barely audible over the sound of that awful music over the monitors. she remembers the way her legs seemed to turn to jelly as she stepped into the library with saihara, momota, and chabashira at her side. she remembers the body of amami lying on the stone floor, still warm from when he was breathing just moments ago. she remembers the feeling of relief that washed over her body as she thought she had finally done it, that she had saved them all, that she had killed the mastermind behind it all. she remembers the feeling of pure and utter horror that struck her when monokuma appeared again, when she realized she had failed, when she realized she had murdered an innocent man.

she remembers the trial. she remembers the shame and the guilt that ate at her throughout it all. she remembers the hope in her heart that she’d still be able to find the mastermind despite everything. she remembers the despair that turned her heart black as the votes with her name on them all rolled in one after the other. she remembers the chain that latched itself around her neck and dragged her to her horrible, despair-inducing execution. she remembers the flea waltz -- one of her favorite songs, one of the first songs she ever learned to play -- humming out underneath her feet. she remembers the rocks bouncing off her body with sickening crunches. she remembers the choking, the clawing, the feeling of her life slipping away as her body desperately fought to take a breath. she remembers. she remembers. she remembers.

(she does not, however, remember the other life attached to this one. she does not remember who she was Before.)

a terrible cry emits from akamatsu’s throat. it’s raw and real and animalistic, and there’s no thoughts in her head as her hand balls up and shoves saihara away from her. he stumbles, catching himself on a chair before his body can tip over and fall. he can only watch with wide, tired grey eyes as a heavy sob bubbles up from the pianist’s chest, shaking her whole body with the effort.

“why… why…” akamatsu sobs, and before saihara can ask ‘why what,’ she raises her voice into a scream, “WHY DIDN’T YOU LET ME DIE?!”

saihara flinches, his gaze flickering over to the door. akamatsu does not notice this. her cries pour out once again. he is frozen solid as she curls up and grabs at her hair.

“I SHOULD HAVE DIED! WHY DIDN’T I DIE?! I KILLED AMAMI-KUN AND I JUST GET TO LIVE?! THAT ISN’T FAIR! I SHOULD HAVE DIED! I SHOULD HAVE DIED!”

saihara opens his mouth, then closes it. no matter reliable he had become after akamatsu’s execution, there was no preparing him for this. the girl he had fallen in love with was breaking down right before him -- what was he supposed to do? slowly, he takes a step forward again. slowly, he reaches his hand out to her, going to pull her hands away from her scalp. as his fingers grasp hers, he realizes just how much colder she feels to the touch than she did when she held his hand the day she killed amami.

“akamatsu-san…” he tries to say as he attempts to pull at her hands, but he doesn’t get anything else out before she yanks away from him. suddenly both her hands are on his chest and he’s reeling back as she shoves him. this time, his balance is lost, and he comes crashing down to the floor.

there is no time for either of them to react to what akamatsu has done. footsteps sound as doctors and nurses flood into the room. there are hands on saihara, pulling him to his feet and pushing him out the room, and akamatsu can make out the voices of one of them scolding him for not coming to get someone right away. the rest of them surround akamatsu, grabbing at her arms and her legs again, although this time she is not kicking or fighting. they speak to her, asking her questions, but akamatsu can barely hear them at all. under the weight of her crushing despair, the world is drowned out and faraway. she hardly notices at all as they poke her with needles and check her vitals. she is barely aware as they begin to filter out one-by-one, seemingly pleased with the calm that has settled over her now that saihara is gone.

when akamatsu returns, there is only one doctor in the room. he sits in a rolling stool with his hands in his pockets, and as akamatsu slowly blinks up at him, he smiles at her.

he is older, but not old, dark skin with greying purple hair that almost reminds her of momota’s. glasses rest on his face that akamatsu isn’t too sure he actually needs. but when he smiles, he is warm and inviting, and the pianist feels the muscles in her shoulders unwind just a bit.

“hello, akamatsu-san,” he starts, eyes searching her face for… something. his voice feels like honey across the tongue, slow and sweet. “my name is doctor mochizuki. can you state your full name for me, please?”

it is now that she notices the recorder resting in the breast pocket of his white coat. slowly, her eyes lift back to his eyes, unsure.

after a beat of silence, she speaks, “akamatsu kaede,” and she is surprised by the hoarseness of her own voice. she supposes that’s what happens when you dangle someone by their neck over some piano keys until they almost die. she clears her throat. “my name is akamatsu kaede.”

“that’s great. thank you.” he smiles again before reaching for something on the counter beside him. a clipboard, she realizes. a pen is produced from the breast pocket with the recorder. “can you tell me about your family, akamatsu-san?” is the next question he asks, and it causes her brow to furrow just the tiniest bit. “like, what do your parents do for a living? do you have any siblings? stuff like that.”

it’s a strange question. akamatsu sits for a moment, letting her hands rest in her lap as she peers at him. maybe it’s to reunite her with her family, she thinks. maybe they need to find their contact information. she doesn’t know.

“uhm… my mother’s name is akamatsu keiko. she’s…” akamatsu pauses, unsure. why can’t she remember her mother’s occupation? a beat passes, and she shakes her head. “she’s unemployed… i-i think… uhm…” mochizuki says nothing about this and instead writes something down on his clipboard. akamatsu takes this as permission to continue. “my father is akamatsu hiroshi. he, uhm… he’s a teacher…” she trails off, nodding to herself. that feels right, she thinks. that must be right. “a-and i have a twin sister. akamatsu mariko. she’s a highschool student like me.”

mochizuki nods to himself as he writes, only pausing to comment, “great, that’s great.” a few seconds pass, and akamatsu shifts uncomfortably in her spot. she doesn’t want to think about why she had such a hard time remembering her parents’ jobs. she can’t think about it. thankfully, the doctor breaks the silence before her thoughts can overwhelm her, “and what about you, akamatsu-san? do you have any hobbies, things you like to do? things you’re good at?”

there is only one answer to this question. her answer comes quicker this time. “i play piano. my friends used to call me ‘piano freak’ because of how crazy i am about it, haha…” she pauses, almost as if remembering something. but it’s not something she ever could have forgotten in the first place, is it? “actually… i’m the ultimate pianist.” ultimate… right. she’s an ultimate. they all were, in that killing game. “so i, uhm… guess i am actually pretty good at it…”

talking about the piano used to make her feel lighter than a feather. now, it only makes her stomach sink to the floor. all she can think of were the off-tune notes played by her dangling feet and the smell of her own death hanging in the air.

mochizuki raises his eyebrows as he writes something new. “an ultimate, huh? wow.”

akamatsu is not entirely sure why he acts surprised when everyone else found with her was an ultimate, too. she is even less sure on why he _feigns_ his surprise, his tone too light and too high to be genuine. she does not ask.

“are you in any pain at all?” is the next question mochizuki asks, and akamatsu does not hesitate for long before pointing to her neck. her index finger brushes the bandages wrapped there. she wonders how awful the bruising must be. she wonders if she’ll ever have her full voice back again after that. mochizuki nods, writes. asks, “anywhere else?”

she considers for a moment before shaking her head.

he nods.

“alright. just in the neck, then, eh? on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?”

a beat. akamatsu lifts four fingers into the air, which seems to please mochizuki, who smiles as he apparently writes the number down onto his clipboard. the pianist straightens her back a bit to try and read the thing, but the effort is useless.

he asks her more questions, and akamatsu answers all of them despite how useless they all seem. she does not understand why he wants to know what school she attends, or if she remembers what her family did for vacation last year, or if she remembers what she was doing right before she woke up in that cramped, dark locker. she does not think about why it becomes harder to answer the more personal the question becomes. she does not think about how her brain lags behind, as if it is coming up with the answers on the spot. she does not want to think about it. she cannot think about it.

a half an hour passes, she thinks, before she is finally the one who asks a question.

“when can i see my parents?” her voice is tired and sore from all the talking. it almost feels like this is the first time she’s talked in a month. “when… when can i go home?”

it’s a selfish question, she knows, and the shame of asking it curls her shoulders forward a bit. after everything, after all her speeches of working together and believing in everyone, the first question to come out of her mouth afterwards is not about the people she survived with. it is not about whether they are alright, or whether they all got out together, or whether there was actually a mastermind sitting amongst all of them. no, her first question is about herself, tired and pained. a desperate request to return home, as if none of this had ever happened in the first place.

doctor mochizuki pauses, though his expression reads that he was expecting this. a sigh rises from him as he leans back in his rolling chair, his eyes lifting to meet akamatsu’s. and then there is silence, save for the heart monitor beside her, and she wonders if he’s ever going to answer the question at all. in fact, it’s only as she’s starting to open her mouth to ask him again that he does, his voice slow and careful.

“well… that depends.”

“depends…?” akamatsu echoes. her brows pull together as frustration mounts in the center of her chest. she’s so exhausted. “depends on _what_?”

“on you.” he sighs again, now moving to place his clipboard back on the counter beside him before returning his gaze to her. his gaze is intense, as if he’s looking for something in her own violet eyes. discomfort settles in, and akamatsu drops her stare back down into her lap as he speaks again, “it depends on you, akamatsu-san, and your memories. as you are right now, i don’t think you’ll want to actually see your parents, let alone go home.”

the words sit uncomfortably in the air, and akamatsu shifts in her spot again. her memories? none of what he’s saying makes sense. slowly, everything begins to feel far away to her, as if she’s developed some sort of vertigo. her hands feel fuzzy in her lap.

“of…” she tries to say, but her voice feels too weak. she coughs, restarts. “of course i want to go home. what are you _talking_ about?”

another sigh sounds from the doctor. the silence that follows is heavy. too heavy. all of a sudden, it feels hard to breathe, and she can only think about the way she hung over that piano, clawing at her own throat in a useless effort to save herself. but she was saved. she was saved. she didn’t die. nobody else died.

“akamatsu-san…” doctor mochizuki starts, and then he leans forward. their eyes meet again. “are you aware of the danganronpa series?”

those words mean nothing to her, and so she shakes her head.

mochizuki continues, “it was a video game series at first, several years ago. the first game pitted sixteen ultimates in a school called hope’s peak academy, in a twisted game called a killing game. the students had to kill someone and get away with it in order to leave the academy. sound familiar?”

akamatsu’s blood runs ice cold, though she is not entirely sure why. she nods.

“after the first game, there was a second one called ‘super danganronpa 2: goodbye despair,’ and after that, there was an anime called ‘danganronpa 3.’ it remained an anime for a good while, up until ‘danganronpa h20: hope in a sea of despair,’ which used live action instead of games or anime. but it wasn’t until ‘true danganronpa 37: the hope in despair’ that the show started using real people.”

akamatsu wishes her heart wasn’t beating so strongly in her chest. quietly, with a voice barely above a whisper, she echoes, “real people…?”

doctor mochizuki nods solemnly. “real people. team danganronpa, the people behind the show, were always obsessed with making it as realistic as they could. so… they held auditions, and real people would sign up to be in the game. they’d wipe their memories and replace them with new ones where they had ultimate talents, just like the characters in the games and anime and show. they’d give them new names, too. completely revamp them into a totally new human being.”

every word he speaks hammers itself into akamatsu’s skull. her fingers ball up the material of her blanket, the only real protection to keep her nails from digging into her skin. part of her doesn’t want him to keep talking. part of her thinks she would like to live in blissful ignorance forever, unaware of any violations of her sense of self. still, she does not speak up. she does not tell him to stop talking. she just stares at her fists and listens.

“of course, team danganronpa can’t kill anyone legally, but they had their work-arounds. instead, they made a neo world program -- a simulation. a place where their participants could die, and feel every agony that came with death, but not actually die.”

akamatsu wants him to stop talking. she doesn’t want any of this to be true. she was saved before death. she didn’t die. nobody else died after her. nobody else had to feel any despair after she was plucked from her podium by the metal chain.

“akamatsu-san…”

there is a roaring in her ears, almost too loud to hear over. her eyes squeeze shut. she doesn’t want to hear anymore. she doesn’t want it to be real. she doesn’t want to think about how awfully, how horribly she failed. she doesn’t want to think about her life being toyed with. she doesn’t want to think about being a fictional character.

she doesn’t want it to be real.

she doesn’t want it to be the truth.

“you were a participant in ‘neo danganronpa 53: despair harmony.’ i’m.. i’m sorry.”

akamatsu opens her mouth, and she screams.

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't proofread any of this so if you find any mistakes uhm.... no you didnt <3


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